Nobody knows the trouble I've seen (that comment was an inside joke for only one person; for anyone else, I at least hope the song gets stuck in your head now). Well Sunday proved to be a bad day to be a Critchlow. It started off with the younger brother waking from his slumber, realizing the clock had been sprung forward an hour (luckily my phone realizes my handicap and automatically changes the time for me) and then realizing that meant he had little-to-no time to get to his scheduled meeting. As he lept from his bed to see what was the matter, he landed and then his mouth made a big clatter ('clatter' verbatim that can't be reprinted in even this column), for he had forgotten about the broken mirror from the night before, so a big chunk of glass went through his foot and a whole it tore (I'm not sure how this turned into a rhyme, but I'm stopping it before it turns into another poem)(you're welcome). An hour in the hospital and three stitches later, he had been healed, but the injury meant he couldn't suit up for the Albinos in Neepawa Basketball League (NBL) action (thanks for thinking about the team, buddy). About six hours later it was my turn as I grabbed a rebound in the NBL, tried to jump back up for a shot, but my one arm wasn't able to lift the full-grown man who was at the same time pushing downward on the ball (who woulda thought) thus re-injuring my already weak arm. After I rolled around on the ground (likely similar in style to a pre-pubescent child throwing a temper tantrum) I opted to tape it up and keep playing (#StupidDecisions). Now it really hurts. Following the game I went to the parents' place for a family supper where I ran into a limping father. I thought maybe it was his hip acting up in his old age, or his leg had fallen asleep, but it was apparently an injury after his foot knocked into the wall (I guess the wall came out of nowhere?). Then, at the supper table, mom yelped in pain as she bit her tongue (which rarely happens – pun intended – Bazinga!)(I'm kidding; love you mom). I guess the moral of that story is don't step on glass, try to lift full-grown men with one bad arm, run into a wall or bite your tongue (I don't know why this column hasn't been picked up by The Learning Channel yet). On another note, I read two pages of 50 Shades of Grey a couple weeks ago (“We aim to please”) and I'm still a little afraid to read anymore (before reading that book, I thought spanking was just what happened when you were bad as a child). Relatedly, I'm still waiting for NAC-TV to pick up my contract to read through the 50 Shades of Grey book aloud as a weekly Thursday night midnight half hour program (if that's not quality programming, I don't know what is). If you're bored and want to try listening to a new song, try Klangkarussell – Sonnentanz (and good luck with the spelling). The good: The fastest-growing job in the United States is apparently home health care aides which are mostly two million minorities and women. Employment is expected to grow 70 per cent from 2010 to 2020 as the Baby Boomers continue to hit the 65 mark (roughly every eight seconds one of them turns 65). The bad: The average wage for the position is $9.70 an hour or $20,000 annually. The ugly (and ironic): Didn't the NHL's Ryan Getzlaf sign an eight-year, $66 million contract last week just to play hockey? Lastly, for some good news, I finally grabbed a winner at Tim Horton's and am now sitting 1-for-13 (although I proceeded to rip off the tab, put it in my pocket, and lose it, so it's kind of a bittersweet victory). Anyway, until next week when I've put signs up on the house walls to warn pops that they are there, keep a smile on your face and I'll do the same.